


Relax

by cloudcastles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudcastles/pseuds/cloudcastles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean promises to draw Seamus, but promises are made to be broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax

“No - No, come on - I actually - wanna - draw you this time.” Dean was still trying to plea his case, even though Seamus had him pinned to the bed, and kept kissing him between him protests. “No - Lemme go! … C’mon - Shay, - I promise”.

“What do you promise?” Seamus smirked down at him.

Dean sighed. “I promise to keep my hands strictly to my drawing equipment. I promise not to make any lewd comments. I promise.” He looked innocently up at his boyfriend, who looked back mistrustingly.

“You always say that. What if actually got a finished drawing of myself one of these days?” He grinned playfully down at Dean.

“You will! Today! I promise. Now let me go. Please?” Seamus sighed, and rolled off him. Dean beamed triumphantly, and leant over to kiss him. “Thankyou, babe”. Seamus stuck his tongue out.

“So, where do you want me, Mr Big Fat Lying Artiste?”

Dean shook his head and sighed. “There’s fine, hun. Just- stay natural, ok? Don’t pose or anything.” Seamus immediately pulled a ridiculous pose, wrapping his arm over the top of his head, making his face all blank and disinterested. Dean snorted, then flipped him the two-fingered salute before turning to find his drawing book and pencils. Seamus only laughed in response, then recomposed himself.

Dean pulled his trunk over, shoving the items hanging over the side back in as he did, then closed the lid and sat down, crossing his legs. He leant his book against his knee, then leant over to grab his pencil box. He pulled out a plain, fairly blunt pencil, and held it to the page. Finally, he looked back to Seamus.

“Do you want to put a top on?” Dean asked, amused.

“You wanted me how I was, this is how I was … . earlier this morning.” he grinned sheepishly.

Dean sighed. “I thought you said you wanted a drawing today?”

“What, you can’t handle drawing me shirtless?” Seamus smirked.

“Well, I’ll try, but this hereby breaks my promise. I am in no way responsible for how this turns out.”

Seamus chuckled, and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright!” Dean smiled, then began to draw.

It was so natural to him, like walking for anyone else. He didn’t think when he drew, he just did. His eyes were accustomed to flicking from page to subject, and replicating what he saw there. And with Seamus, it was more like dancing than walking. What came naturally to him came to life when he drew Seamus. Every curve and every muscle, he’d learnt by heart. He could draw him perfectly from memory. But having him lying I front of him made the charcoal lines that much more vibrant.

The lines just seemed to pour onto the page perfectly, sweeping and curling around one another. He didn’t even need to look to Seamus to draw the freckles which led down his arm, he knew where they were. They stopped in a pool at his elbow, which was pressed into one of Dean’s pillows. Dean left his wrist for later, and moved to sculpt his torso onto the page. Seamus’ collarbones were what took the most focus from him. They were so clearly defined in their beauty, yet so intricately places amongst Seamus’ freckles, he found them hard to shape correctly. Especially when Seamus was breathing so heavily, changing the shadows every moment. 

“Shay. Try to relax.” he whispered.

Seamus stared right into Dean’s eyes, and took and exaggerated breath in. “I can’t. Too tense.”

“Well, try exhaling first.” Seamus blew it out in defiance at Dean. “Picture something really relaxing. Like a bath, with calming music, and, I dunno, rose petals.”

“Ok. Bath, calming music, rose petals.” repeated Seamus, “There’s something missing though.” 

Dean looked up from drawing his abdomen, and raised one eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“You.”

Dean snorted, and looked back down again, trying to focus on drawing Seamus’ bellybutton.

“Seriously, though. Did I ever tell you that when I sleep with you beside me, I sleep pretty much perfectly? Without you, Dean, I wake up in the middle of the night, and I toss and turn all night. And then there are my stupid bloody Charms lessons which you’re not in, where I can never do the spells quite as good as I do them when I’m practising with you.” He looked back at Dean, waiting for him to look up. When he did, he softened his gaze and smiled.

Dean smirked back at him. “I know what you’re playing at, Finnigan.”

“I’m not playing at anything, darling. I’m just saying, I need help relaxing, and you’re my best cure.” He batted his eyelashes and grinned.

Dean sighed, and put his pencil down beside him. “IF - and I mean if - if I help you relax, will you stay the fuck still?”

“So fucking still, my dear. I won’t even breathe” Seamus replied.

“You’d better not.” he threatened. Then he laid his book aside, and sat on the edge of the bed. He crawled up so he was hovering above Seamus, and smiled down at him. He leant down, and lightly grazed his lips over the smaller boy’s, before letting Seamus take charge of the kiss.

Seamus reached up to cup Dean’s face with both his hands, pulling him closer, so their chest nearly touched. Dean’s arms couldn’t take the strain, so he rolled off Seamus, breaking the kiss. He pressed himself against his back, kissing his neck lightly, his arm clinging to Seamus’ chest. Funnily enough, he did feel Seamus relax into him, exhaling slowly as he did. He nuzzled into Seamus’ shoulder, turning him over to do the same to his exquisite collarbones. This quickly turned to kissing again, along the ridges, delving into the shadows. Seamus arched his neck back, letting Dean move along until he reached the opposite shoulder.

Dean stopped in the deepest hollow of Seamus’ collarbones. He took a deep breath of Seamus’ scent - a heavy, sweet mixture of cinnamon and bubblegum. He sighed, and pressed himself against the smaller boy, lying down on his other side now. Seamus grazed his arm along Dean’s side, turning as he did. He cupped the back of Dean’s head and kissed him again. Dean automatically reached around Seamus to pull him in closer, so their lips almost melded into one. Their tongues slid against one another in time with their lips, only broken my Seamus rolling on top of Dean.

He leant away from Dean so he could straddle him. Seamus rolled his hips into Dean’s before leaning down to kiss him again, messily this time. Dean tried to bend forwards to meet Seamus’ lips properly, but was immediately pushed down. Seamus grinned in delight, moving his lips to Dean’s ear. He softly kissed and licked it, leading his kisses down Dean’s jawline and neck to his Adam’s apple.

Dean lay back, Seamus tonguing at his neck, trying to focus his mind. On anything. It had reached the point of incoherent non-return. He could feel Seamus kissing his neck, but his conscious brain wasn’t exactly recognising what was actually happening, other than the amazing feeling it created. The hands running over his abdomen and chest certainly weren’t helping matters either. Not only was his mind sent aflame by them, but he uncontrollably writhed under Seamus fingers, sliding over his nipples deftly, and down to follow his snail trail.Making out shouldn’t really do that much to one person, but this was Seamus. Dean Thomas with Seamus Finnigan. The Irish boy seriously had an insanely talented tongue. And Dean was more sensitive than most. 

Seamus could feel Dean’s breathing getting more erratic, accompanied by his little whispers of “fucking hell” and “yes”, and grinned again. He rolled his hips into Dean’s again, just to hear his breath hitch. “You alright, hun?”, he asked, smirking.

Dean didn’t answer, just flicked his eyes up to Seamus’, keeping eye contact as Seamus kept rolling his hips, rubbing their rapidly stiffening groins together. Although they both still wore jeans and underwear, for Dean, the sensation was unbelievable.

“Shay, I swear, if you don’t -“

The smaller boy pulled Dean up to meet him by his t-shirt seam, cutting off his sentence as he kissed him hungrily. He moved back, and worked his fingers at the base of Dean’s shirt so he could pull it off. Dean raised his arms, and Seamus pulled it off, throwing it into the far corner of the room.

They paused, wavering a mere breath away from each other’s faces. Their eyes stared into each other’s, and Seamus smiled again. He faltered for a moment, then whispered.

“Dean - I love you.”

Dean smiled back, and answered by kissing his boyfriend again. He wrapped his arm completely around him, and rolled Seamus underneath him. Coaxing Seamus to lie on his stomach, he gently began to kiss around his neck, and down onto his back.

Seamus let himself relax completely to the rhythm of Dean’s kisses. His breath was in time with the joining of Dean’s lips to his back, and he arched into his hands as they stroked over his shoulders.

He turned his head when Dean paused, quizzical.

“I love you, Seamus fucking Finnigan.”

Their lips met again for a brief moment, before Dean drew away, back to kissing Seamus’ shoulders again.

 

…

 

Later, Neville crept in from the greenhouse, closing the door silently behind him. he turned, and softly smiled to himself.

Dean and Seamus lay on Dean’s bed, nuzzled into each other. he stopped at the end of their bed, and pulled the curtains on the four-poster closed, quietly. He looked down, and picked up the overturned piece of parchment. Seamus stared out at him, half finished and glorious. He smiled again, and put the drawing down.

“To be in love”, he whispered to himself.


End file.
